The Sacred Writings of the East - 5 Books in One Edition - Edwin Arnold

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peasant's bread! how hard

      The oxen's service! in the brake how fierce

      The war of weak and strong! i' th' air what plots!

      No refuge e'en in water. Go aside

      A space, and let me muse on what ye show."

      So saying, the good Lord Buddha seated him

      Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed—

      As holy statues sit—and first began

      To meditate this deep disease of life,

      What its far source and whence its remedy.

      So vast a pity filled him, such wide love

      For living things, such passion to heal pain,

      That by their stress his princely spirit passed

      To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint

      Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat

      Dhyana, first step of "the path."

      There flew

      High overhead that hour five holy ones,

      Whose free wings faltered as they passed the tree.

      "What power superior draws us from our flight?"

      They asked, for spirits feel all force divine,

      And know the sacred presence of the pure.

      Then, looking downward, they beheld the Buddh

      Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent

      On thoughts to save; while from the grove a voice

      Cried, "Rishis! this is He shall help the world,

      Descend and worship." So the Bright Ones came

      And sang a song of praise, folding their wings,

      Then journeyed on, taking good news to Gods.

      But certain from the King seeking the Prince

      Found him still musing, though the noon was past,

      And the sun hastened to the western hills

      Yet, while all shadows moved, the jambu-tree's

      Stayed in one quarter, overspreading him,

      Lest the sloped rays should strike that sacred head;

      And he who saw this sight heard a voice say,

      Amid the blossoms of the rose-apple,

      "Let be the King's son! till the shadow goes

      Forth from his heart my shadow will not shift."

      Book The Second

       Table of Contents

      Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen years,

      The King commanded that there should be built

      Three stately houses, one of hewn square beams

      With cedar lining, warm for winter days;

      One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat;

      And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles bedecked,

      Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks bud—

      Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names.

      Delicious gardens round about them bloomed,

      Streams wandered wild and musky thickets stretched,

      With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn

      In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will,

      Some new delight provided every hour;

      And happy hours he knew, for life was rich,

      With youthful blood at quickest; yet still came

      The shadows of his meditation back,

      As the lake's silver dulls with driving clouds.

      Which the King marking, called his Ministers:

      "Bethink ye, sirs I how the old Rishi spake,"

      He said, "and what my dream-readers foretold.

      This boy, more dear to me than mine heart's blood,

      Shall be of universal dominance,

      Trampling the neck of all his enemies,

      A King of kings—and this is in my heart;—

      Or he shall tread the sad and lowly path

      Of self-denial and of pious pains,

      Gaining who knows what good, when all is lost

      Worth keeping; and to this his wistful eyes

      Do still incline amid my palaces.

      But ye are sage, and ye will counsel me;

      How may his feet be turned to that proud road

      Where they should walk, and all fair signs come true

      Which gave him Earth to rule, if he would rule?"

      The eldest answered, "Maharaja! love

      Will cure these thin distempers; weave the spell

      Of woman's wiles about his idle heart.

      What knows this noble boy of beauty yet,

      Eyes that make heaven forgot, and lips of balm?

      Find him soft wives and pretty playfellows;

      The thoughts ye cannot stay with brazen chains

      A girl's hair lightly binds."

      And all thought good,

      But the King answered, "if we seek him wives,

      Love chooseth ofttimes with another eye;

      And if we bid range Beauty's garden round,

      To pluck what blossom pleases, he will smile

      And sweetly shun the joy he knows not of."

      Then said another, "Roams the barasingh

      Until the fated arrow flies; for him,

      As for less lordly spirits, some one charms,

      Some face will seem a Paradise, some form

      Fairer than pale Dawn when she wakes the world.

      This do, my King! Command a festival

      Where the realm's maids shall be competitors

      In youth and grace, and sports that Sakyas use.

      Let the Prince give the prizes to the fair,

      And, when the lovely victors pass his seat,

      There shall be those who mark if one or two

      Change the fixed sadness of his tender cheek;

      So we may choose for Love with Love's own eyes,

      And cheat his Highness into happiness."

      This thing seemed good; wherefore upon a day

      The criers bade the young and beautiful

      Pass to the palace, for 't was in command

      To hold a court of pleasure, and the Prince

      Would give the prizes, something rich for all,

      The richest for the fairest judged. So flocked

      Kapilavastu's maidens to the gate,

      Each

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